Dark Soul (SoulScape #1)

CH 1

BLACK MOON COUNTY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY

Strapped securely to the gurney, Alec waited patiently for them to find a suitable vein in which to insert the catheter. The ceiling bulged and swelled above him, pressing down closer and closer. Alec knew it was simply a reaction of the barbiturate they had administered, so he paid it little mind except to become fascinated by it all. He didn't fear the death they were struggling to administer.

Their fingertips pinched and prodded the inside of his right forearm and wrist, and for the fifth time inserted the needle tip. A faint smile twisted his lips as he barely felt the sharp prick. He didn't look at them, but he could feel the medical workers eyes flit across his face like insect tentacles. He could feel their tension and anxiety at their inability to find a useful vein. He ignored them as they withdrew the needle again and moved to the other arm and began prodding the tender flesh.

"Why the hell is he smiling like that?" One of the technicians muttered irritably with unease. "It's friggin creepy."

The other shook his head as his face pinched. "Ignore him," he said quietly, then swore softly as another insertion failed to take.

Alec closed his eyes as gracefully as a baby falling asleep in its mother's arms and imagined the strange little man who had come to see him two days ago. Who, at this very moment, was in Alec's room back at the Asylum praying for Alec's soul. He thought of Dr. Frank Harlan and wondered if the man was watching this botched attempt to take his patient's life. But no, Harlan wasn't here. He was at the Asylum as well. Alec could feel the man's guilt like a telepathic wave, and he liked the sensations it gave him –like a million tiny fingertips massaging the surface of his skin.

It was more than guilt, though. Alec's brow pinched –not in response to the needle repeatedly jabbing his skin –but in an attempt to trap the emotion he was tapping into from his doctor of fifteen years. Remorse? Alec didn't understand such feeling and emotions, but he knew of them.

But, no...it was more than remorse. More than guilt. Something...else. He had felt it once before, during his last private session with Dr. Harlan before he was taken from the asylum and brought here. That session...had been unlike any other. There weren't many memories that would follow Alec through to the other side –but that one he would take with him.

The catheter was finally in place, secured by a wide strip of tape. In a moment, one of the medical technicians would begin the Saline drip. Alec's eyes opened and settled on a plain, circular clock mounted high on the wall and began to subconsciously count the minutes.

Why, exactly, was Dr. Frank Harlan suffering guilt? Oh yes, because of the woman. Dr. Kim Delaney. Alec's smile broadened. She had been so trusting of him to insist they be left alone, despite Harlan's objections. But she'd talked Harlan down and gotten her own way. Killing her hadn't even been a challenge, hardly fun at all. But there was more to his guilt than just the death of Dr. Delaney; Frank Harlan felt he had failed Alec as his doctor...and perhaps more. It was the "more" that taunted Alec now, lurking in the shadows that encompassed his dark soul, just out of reach and refusing to allow Alec to see its face. What more could there be?

He thought of their last session again. Harlan had dropped his guard, exposed his throat...yet Alec hadn't struck that fatal blow. Why? Dr. Delaney's death served a purpose. Dr. Harlan's death benefited him nothing. Yet...he needed no purpose to kill. It was his nature. So why spare Frank Harlan's life?

That frustrating little fuck creeping through the shadows of his mind started to peek out into the open, giving Alec a glimpse of an answer –but this time it was Alec who shoved him back into the darkness. He didn't want to know.

Alec stared at the clock; almost five minutes ticked by since the Saline had been turned on. About ten more minutes to go.

He thought about his mother. It had been nearly fifteen years since he last saw her, but her face was as clear as a bell in his mind. The wretched whore who had brought him to the Asylum. Sent him to hell while breath still swelled his five year old lungs. She'd become afraid of him, though she'd never admitted such things aloud. But he'd detected it too clearly in her eyes. She knew he wasn't right and wished to hide him from the world. She would be the first.

His eyes followed the second hand. The technicians were beyond his vision, but he could still feel them in the room. Another few minutes and they would turn on the Sodium Thiopental, followed by the Pancuronium Bromide and Potassium Chloride. Approximately five minutes after the poisonous solution entered his bloodstream –Alec would be dead.

He waited, welcoming. He could smell death hovering just outside the carnal realm, and that old Reaper had a sulfuric stench that stung the nostrils. Alec squinted and could almost see death's face –it was little more than a skull mottled with tendrils of rotted skin. It smiled darkly at him, but Alec just smiled back; the fool, the joke was on him. Because back at the Asylum, away from the death chamber...the priest was praying for Alec's soul.

The poison flowed into his bloodstream with a fierce burning sensation and the muscles in Alec's stomach churned and convulsed. His throat constricted and worked desperately to draw in air. But his struggles for survival were mere instinct; he wanted to die. For in death, a great freedom awaited him.

Freedom and vengeance.